Dear Kellsie,
It's been getting bad again lately. I know I am surrounded by people, but I feel so alone all the time. The worst part is that I have no one to talk to about it. You just don't get it, you'll never understand it, but I guess that's something I should be grateful for; I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, I really wouldn't. One of my main issues is that I have a hard time reaching out to people. But you already knew that. Instead of pulling people I should love closer to me in my time of need, I push them away. I'm sorry. Blinded by my own pain, I hurt you. Last night was the worst I've had in a while. For the first time in months, I self-harmed. Scissors on my right hip, a sweet spot with thin skin so I feel the pain right away. It was almost like I was on auto-pilot; I didn't really think about what I was doing or what it meant, before I knew it I was bleeding and trying to pull myself together.
Sunday night was date night for us. Ever since you started working, I've been on the backburner more than ever before. You know how much I hate being a second choice; I've been everyone's backup for seventeen years, I want more than that, especially from you. I guess it's my fault for breaking up with you. Before we broke up, you were the perfect boyfriend. That's not even a hyperbole, you were honestly that good. You called exactly when you said you would, gave me all the love and affection a girl could want while still giving me my own space, and were loyal and faithful. But, in case you haven't heard by now, I'm sick. I went off my medication because they make me feel nauseous and I was tired of being the "crazy" girl who took six pills a night, so I cut them out. I thought I could handle it, but it was a mistake, to say the least. I messed around while we were broken up. I know you did too, but you only did it because I pushed you away so much and told you to move on. I did it even though we were still talking as friends because I was so lonely and wanted attention from someone less perfect. God, how messed up is that?
Ever since we got back together, you haven't been the same. Neither have I though, I guess. When we went out on Sunday, we smoked and were messing around in the back seat of your car. I told you I didn't want to have sex. My excuse was that I wasn't in the mood but the truth is, I was feeling down and had the ultimate dilemma a depressed person can have: I wanted to be left alone, but didn't want you to leave me alone. So what did I do? Well, you know what happened next. It hurt, god it hurt so badly, but I just wanted you to have fun, I didn't want you to leave me. You promised me that after we did it we'd go back to your place, eat food, and you would hold me. That was before I made the crucial mistake of crying during sex though, even though, even though I couldn't keep my eyes from tearing up from the pain. I scared you or made you uncomfortable or accidentally pushed you away; it's what I do best. After that, you told me to leave. All of a sudden you had a ton of "homework" to do. I went to that private school for my first two years of high school. I know how miserable it is and how the workload never lessens, but that was a sad excuse of a lie and we both know it.
Now you wonder why I've been so distant, why I'm always keeping you at arm's-length. Maybe it's true that I'm a messed up cynic, but you can't say that I don't have good reasons, not after what happened that night. I let you in, literally and figuratively, and I paid the price. I had already been feeling down and now it's almost as bad as it used to be. I can't sleep, even less than usual, so I get out of bed and do random stuff in my room, like cut. It's unhealthy. It's painful. It's sad and it's terrible. I do not recommend it for anyone. But for me? It's nothing more than another bad habit.
Sincerely,
Alice.
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